The Arkansaw traveler., 1887-11-19

rebels against the deformities of the prevailing mode.
 However the horizon may have widened about the feminine seeker, and although she may now be allowed to stagger under burdens borne of old, only by men, the divine law which made her a woman still preserves the instincts of her sex. The traditions of generations are not lost in day and thus, with one accord, women desire beauty, and grieve to the hearts core if it be denied them. Yet this is not for beauty's sake; but because of the resultant love and admiration, form ing so large part of their lives. AL ways accused of being inordinately vain, they are seldom as openly and artlessly pleased with themselves as men are; and the ancient myth makers realized this, when they incar- mated vanity in a masculine shape. Narcissa would soon have wearied of her pretty image, glassed between the ferny fringes of the silvery pool, and would have gone blithely in search of some one else to admire it. Failing this, its utter uselessness would merely have moved her to impatience.
 In truth, woman's glances into the and sad question than of vanity. Even when she seems to be dwelling with delight upon the exquisite reflection her heart is probably whispering to her of conquests, past, present and to come. Seldom does she revel in her own loveliness, seldom does she re- joice in it, "as strong man to run race" For too many centuries she has regarded it as means to an end. First the slave and afterward the plaything but first and last and al- ways made for the pleasure of man, it has been too long her only weapon, her only hope of power. This has developed within her self protective instinct,-a strange cunning to conceal her defects and make the most of her good points; producing an effect of beauty, which impresses the mind, but defies analysis like mirage.
 It is to be observed that beauty is best beloved by those who lack it. With such people the feeling amounts to a passion; for, if "the lost knife had golden handle," how dear and desir- able must be that gift, longed for, yet never possessed, which talents can never attain, neither can courage con- quer nor gold purchase. This is espe- cially true of women, and more par ticularly when it is quickened by the artistic temperament. Although the hero who made Charlotte Bronte's fame was as small and plain as herself, the portrayal was defiance hurled at the public to prove the power of genius.
 Of all the woman who have witched the world with the magic of word painting, George Eliot has contrib uted to fiction it's most charming DOT trait gallery of feminine faces. Rosa- mond, blonde and flower like, catch ing up the meshes of her fair locks, before the mirror -Hettys infantine curves and dimples Maggie, with the dusky hair and the dumb, yearn- ing look in her brown eyes ;-the mo- ble outlines and candid glance ot Dorothea Gwendolen, the slender young goddess; swift and scornful;- Romola's stately, golden head, when its bright tresses met and mingled with Ifto's dark curls, in their first embrace; these visions rise and pass before us.
 And when we turn to look upon the enchantress, we see her eyes, un- utterably sad, gazing from harsh and homely face; and we realize that all these images of joyous youth and beauty have been "by hopeless fancy feigned."